Nowhere to go (but up)
by Ponine099
Summary: Regulus Arcturus Black, beloved son, ex-brother and heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. He died young, didn't he?


**Round ten QLF  
**Title: Nowhere to go (but up)

Team: Wasps, position: Beater one

Prompt: Save Regulus Black

**Optional prompts:**

8\. (quote)"Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful."- Mary Shelley

9\. (spell)Crucio

15\. (object) hourglass

**A/N: Warning for some dark themes, including the use of the Cruciatus curse and physical/emotional trauma. Mild language.**

**Also, to clarify, J.K doesn't explicitly describe the effects of the Potion of Despair, but it can be inferred that its victim relieves their worst memories.**

Thanks to my teammates for beta'ing

* * *

_Stand up straight, _his mind reprimanded. _You're not a boy anymore._

So he lifted his chin and swallowed the strangling fear.

He put his hand in his left pocket and took the miniature, golden hourglass Father had gifted him so many winters back, when life was simple. He tapped his wand once on it, and the sand started to fall. It would count to thirty minutes, the time left until anyone noticed his absence.

"It's time," he muttered, putting the hourglass in Kreacher's hand, and barely registering having spoken out loud. "Don't lose track of the sand," he warned, loudly now.

He handed Kreacher the fake locket, feeling a dash of pride rise in his chest at the touch of his replica. Unraveling the Dark Lord's master plan simply _had _to count as the pinnacle of his heir-to-The-Noble-and-Most-Ancient-House-of-Black brilliance.

_Sarcasm doesn't suit you, dear,_ a mocking voice whispered in his head._ You know that was always Sirius's thing._

Yes, well… This whole situation was ironically the epitome of his deranged brother's nature. That moron would spend every last Galleon of his nonexistent inheritance to dramatically die as a war hero.

"Master…" Kreacher rasped from beside him, making him jump. He was being absent-minded again.

"Yes. I apologise." Regulus slowly filled the goblet with the glowing potion, his insides churning. "You know what you must do, Kreacher."

The elf remained silent. He seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack, glancing sideways every other second and murmuring incomprehensibly. "Master should let Kreacher drink the potion. Kreacher is willing to do it for him."

"No," Regulus answered coldly, not daring to look at those big, teary eyes, lest his determination falter. "Now remember, you cannot tell anyone, especially Mother."

"Mistress should know, yes. She would like to know if Master Regulus were in danger. Mistress would hate it if her only good boy were to- "

"Silence," he commanded. "My duty to Mother ended with my childhood. Now I must answer to myself."

Kreacher bowed low, sniffling. "Of course, Master."

Regulus sighed quietly.

"To the Dark Lord. May he rot in Hell."

And lifting the cursed cup to his lips, he drank.

* * *

_The alley was pitch-dark, and the group of cloaked people in it blended in perfectly. It was exactly the kind of place where the evil ones lure and their deeds happen._

"_All yours, Regulus," grinned one of the figures with malice._

_Regulus pointed his wand at the pathetic lump on the floor. The Muggle was bleeding heavily from some of Lucius's more creative wounding spells and had already passed out. _

"_If you plan on spoiling them, you should bring a replacement toy for the rest of us."_

_Some scattered laughs emerged from the rest of the Death Eaters._

"_Don't be ridiculous," said Lucius, scowling before pointing his own wand at the Muggle. "_Enneverate._"_

_The man's eyes snapped open with alarm, as though he had woken up from a terrible dream, and with good reason; the situation he found himself in was the stuff of nightmares. _

"_See? As good as new."_

_Regulus smiled rather forcefully. These stupid raids were getting out of hand;__now he was not only encouraged, but _expected_ to torture random passersby. It was preposterous._

_Now, however, was no time to speak his mind on the matter. Everyone was waiting for his move. He sighed internally, thinking on how to proceed._

Right. Let's give them a show and be done with it.

"_Crucio!" he cried._

_A green, sizzling light shot from his wand and hit the man square in the chest. His screams filled the alleyway. Horrible. Unnerving._

_A few _oohs_ and _ahhs _came mockingly from the masked figures. He'd never used an Unforgivable before. _

"_Well, well," said Lucius, smiling. "Little Regulus has grown into a man." He approached from behind him and whispered in his ear. "Mean it, Black. Feel the power and enjoy it."_

_And he did feel power, running through his veins and channeling through his wand. _

_It was old magic, strong and authentic._

_But something was wrong. _Something_ nagged in his heart. _

_So he broke the curse, shaking. It was over. It was over._

"_Good," sentenced Lucius. "Now finish it."_

_His heart started at that phrase. No… he didn't really expect him to-_

"_Kill him." _

"_No," he answered, trying to sound nonchalant. "I couldn't possibly take that privilege from you."_

"_Kill him."_

_His mind went blank, and he couldn't think of any excuses. _

"_Come on, Black," a Death Eater growled impatiently, "we all want to go home now."_

_He bit his tongue fiercely and felt the metallic taste of blood. Black blood, pure blood, the blood of his ancestors. Blood made for this. For a murderer._

_And he knew there was no escaping that._

"Avada Kedavra."

* * *

He was screaming. It hurt so much. He felt as if his body was being torn apart. Worse than that, a blade pierced his soul.

The words rang over and over in his head, laughing coldly. _Avada Kedavra. _

He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

_Murderer! _

"No, no. I swear, I had no choice. Please. I couldn't have, I... Please, NO!"

"Master ordered Kreacher, Kreacher must make him drink the potion." The elf's rough voice was full of despair.

"_Please_! I don't want to, I beg you."

And yet, he continued to drink.

_You wanted to make Mother and Father proud? Well there you have it. Not even they could love you now. _

"PLEASE! I'm sorry, I'll be better. They made me, I… you can kill me now, I deserve it, I know, just stop!"

"It's over, Master. It's over." Kreacher was sobbing as well now, cleaning the tears away with his rags. He promptly swapped the lockets in the basin, his long, pale hands trembling violently.

Regulus, who at the moment hugged his knees to his torso in desperation, seemed to be in a trance. His eyes had closed, and his face looked a sickening tone of ashen pale.

He didn't look physically fit to get up, let alone Apparate, but Kreacher knew staying here much longer wasn't an option.

The cave, horribly cold and dark, was filled with something terrible, the elf could sense. Not only the dead that haunted the lake, but something far worse.

Kreacher shook his Master's shoulder once more, feeling hopeless. Time was running out, he could see it in the his shock and delight, however, Regulus's eyes did flutter open this time.

The fog was finally beginning to clear from his head, and the pain had come to a bearable level. At last, his heart beat rhythmically, and his breaths evened.

He still felt dreadful, though. His head throbbed as though it was split open.

Moreover, a terrible thirst overwhelmed his senses, the likes of which he'd never experienced before. His instincts were screaming for a glass, nay, a drop of water. He knew he would die without it before long.

"Water…water," he found himself muttering over and over again. _Yes. The lake water will do._

He slowly dragged his tired body down the ragged rocks to reach the black surface of the lake. _It will also give me a quick death. Easy._

"Master… please. Master should let Kreacher help, Kreacher-"

The elf was panicking again. His master's well-being battled his master's will in his head, a confrontation he'd never expected to encounter.

Regulus was getting closer to the water now, glee on his face. _Death would be sweet, it would set him free. The dead don't concern themselves with right or wrong, nor true or false._

Suddenly, Kreacher stopped his mutterings. He seemed to have come to a decision he didn't like, his fists clenched in frustration. He hurried to Regulus limp body. "Kreacher hopes Master can forgive him one day."

Regulus's eyes opened wide in understanding and surprise. "No, Kreacher, don't you da-"

He didn't have the chance to finish his threat. There was a loud crack, and they were both gone, the cave left as silent and soulless as ever.

* * *

They Apparated straight to Grimmauld Place's hall, Regulus cursing as they did. His eyes were glossy with tears, and there were cuts all over his arms from the jagged rocks of the island.

"I… I was supposed to die," he spat. "You went against my explicit orders."

But Kreacher had been faster. He was already hitting his head madly against the wall.

"Stop it!" said Regulus, pulling Kreacher away. "Foolish elf. That won't do any good now."

He got up with difficulty, using the wall as support, and trying not to make any loud noises.

His parents were already asleep, and he had no intention of answering their questions.

Not even the benefit of the doubt they granted him now that he was of age would suffice to keep them quiet if they found him in this state at such an hour.

After retrieving the locket from Kreacher, he directed his steps towards his bedroom, where he could rest and clear his thoughts.

He suddenly remembered he should get water before anything else. But… he was no longer thirsty. The enchantment must have worn off after leaving the cave.

So he went straight to bed.

He slept uneasily that night. His dreams were plagued with a shrill laugh, and he kept waking up covered in cold sweat.

Early in the morning, after deciding that rolling in bed any longer would be counterproductive, he sat in the darkness, to try and sort out everything that had happened in the last few hours.

He was scared. Back in the cave, he'd know death was the only possible outcome. That had given him strength to go on, and a courage he'd never known he had. The certainty that he had nothing left to lose, and so much to win. A redemption and a dignified end. Now? That had all turned to ashes.

Death was no longer clear. A much more barbaric end awaited him at the hands of the Dark Lord or his followers.

But then again, was he really this _coward? _Could he really say he'd given himself redemption by starting this job and then backing out?

How many people could say they held the key to stopping the maniac that had started this war and murdered all these innocents? He'd been selfish.

He pulled the golden locket from under his shirt, and was repulsed by its mere look. It wasn't as difficult to be brave when he thought of the atrocities the man he sought to eliminate had committed.

He let all the doubt and excruciating memories wash over him. And he knew he was ready. To die or live, to lose or gain. For his battered soul had sank to the bottom, and there was nowhere to go but up.

"Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful," he whispered.


End file.
